


Fun

by the_ocean_burned



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Actually not sad for once, Artist!Adam, Birthday, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6386800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ocean_burned/pseuds/the_ocean_burned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam gets mysterious and slightly worrying birthday presents that eventually become less mysterious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fun

It took Adam a moment to remember. That day was his birthday. Usually, he wouldn’t be excited or care, really, but he couldn’t help but hold out a little hope that year. His heart did a weak sort of somersault as he sat up a little and felt something shift on his legs. He fumbled for the switch to turn on the lamp sitting on his floor, smacking his head on the sloped ceiling in the process. He eventually got the light on and looked down, rubbing gingerly at the lump he was sure was growing on his head.

In his lap was a relatively heavy, irregularly rectangular package, wrapped messily in dark blue paper. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he picked it up. That feeling of warm happiness that was unfurling in his chest was new to him, but he didn’t mind it. It was nice.

Adam pulled apart the paper on the package as carefully as he could, trying not to tear it so that he could maybe reuse it at a later date. Shock tore through him like lightning when he saw what he was actually holding, followed quickly by an overwhelming wave of confusion.

 _Three new sketchbooks?_ Adam couldn’t believe it, for two reasons. One—he hadn’t thought anyone knew about that. He had loved to draw since he was little, but he’d stopped advertising it after years of no moral support, no self-confidence to speak of, and only negative feedback from his family. He still drew, of course, but it was still one of his most closely guarded secrets. Two—he couldn’t think of a single person who would go so far as to buy him three high-quality sketchbooks, much less anyone who would understand a good quality sketchbook from a shit one. Maybe Blue would understand the finer nuances, but she didn’t have the money for anything that good. Gansey had the money but not the knowledge, and Adam was one hundred percent certain that neither of them knew about that particular hobby.

Adam smiled a little as he put the sketchbooks beneath the box that served as his night stand with his other ones. He showered and dressed, still wondering who had given him the sketchbooks. Eventually he shrugged it off, figuring he’d think of another possibility later.

Gansey had insisted on throwing a party. Adam had been reluctant, but Gansey had looked so damned eager and hopeful that he just couldn’t deny him. It was small, just Noah and Adam and Ronan and Gansey and Blue, but it was still more than Adam could ever remember getting. Gansey had bought him a new backpack, which he claimed was for group camping trips—that was a very scary thought, and Adam made sure to take extra shifts if one of those ever came back up to avoid it at all costs—Blue had given him a sloppily crocheted scarf, and Noah had given him a box full of glitter. Adam wasn’t entirely sure _why_ Noah had chosen glitter, of all things, but he accepted it anyway. Ronan seemed to be avoiding eye contact, which Adam didn’t understand, either. They hadn’t fought in almost three days, which was a rarity all on its own. Ronan _did,_ however, blast the Murder Squash Song from his speakers, and it repeated a good twelve times before Gansey finally shut the damned thing off, much to Noah’s dismay.

Over the course of the day, Adam kept finding more of those little blue-wrapped packages hidden away in little nooks and crannies where whoever was leaving them knew that he’d find them. There was one in the fridge by Adam’s Coca-Colas, one between the couch cushions where Adam’s crappy, beat-up phone always fell—that visit was no exception to that rule—and one beneath his coat that Adam found when he went to leave. He tucked each of them carefully into the bag Gansey had given him and didn’t open them until he got home.

High-quality colored pencils, expensive watercolors, and a set of pens that looked like they’d be for outlining. Adam was grateful of course—there was no way he’d have been able to get those types of high-grade supplies on his own paycheck anytime soon—but he was also confused because who the _hell_ was going that far for him? The only one that Adam could even slightly believe could know would be Noah, but he was dead and most people couldn’t see him so he couldn’t have bought any of the supplies. If Noah knew and had told Gansey, then Gansey would have confronted Adam about why he’d never said anything. Adam shuddered at the thought of Gansey flipping through his sketchbooks; he preferred to keep what was in his mind between himself and the paper. Some things Gansey just didn’t need to know.

He was still pondering the issue when someone knocked on the door. Adam already knew who it was when he answered. Ronan stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. Adam stepped aside silently and Ronan came in. With a jolt, Adam realized his new art supplies were still sitting on the bed, in plain view. Adam knew Ronan saw them, but Ronan didn’t comment or even really react.

The room was silent for a moment. Adam sat on the bed, staring at the mystery presents, and Ronan sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at Adam. After a moment, another blue-wrapped package landed in Adam’s lap and Adam’s heart nearly stopped.

He glanced up; Ronan was still watching Adam steadily. With shaking fingers, Adam opened the package and his heart was suddenly in his throat. In his hands was a pack of grade-A charcoal. At that point, Adam didn’t even care that it was good quality because it was _charcoal._ Adam had always, _always_ wanted to use charcoal. He’d never gotten the chance to practice, beyond using charcoal once in a fifth grade art class. He didn’t remember much but a giant mess and that it had been the most fun he’d had in his life. Adam turned his disbelieving stare to Ronan, who was smirking in the most infuriating way possible.

“How did you know?” Adam’s voice was a little croaky, and his accent had slipped out in full force, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care at the moment.

Ronan shrugged. “You were in the shower, and I got bored, and I found your sketchbooks. You make lots of notes about charcoal. You’re really good, by the way. It’s impressive.”

Adam was torn between being angry at Ronan for the invasion of privacy, being relieved that Ronan hadn’t said anything to Gansey about what he’d seen, and being grateful that Ronan had gone so far for him just for the hell of it. The ecstasy of having his own set of charcoal was making it hard for think.

As such, he decided not to think. On a random urge, he crawled from the bed and kissed Ronan full on the mouth. Ronan seemed to freeze; Adam’s hands came up and cupped Ronan’s face. He refused to move away until Ronan reacted, whether the reaction was to pull him closer or to push him away. Adam didn’t know why he was kissing Ronan, exactly, but was determined to see it through, reasoning be damned.

After what seemed like years but was probably only seconds, one of Ronan’s hands slid up to cup the back of Adam’s neck. Adam shivered a little as the frayed ends of Ronan’s leather wrist bands brushed lightly across his skin. The kiss only lasted a few more moments, but every second felt like an eon to Adam. At some point, both of his eyes fell shut.

Ronan was the one who broke both the kiss and the trance. His hand stayed on the back of Adam’s neck, though, warm and firm.

“Why?” The word was a breath, a feather, a flash of lightning, a scream, and a question Adam didn’t want to answer. There were parts of himself, Adam knew, that he had been ignoring steadfastly for longer than he could remember. He knew that Ronan had made it harder to ignore those parts of him, too.

“Why do you think?” Was what came out of Adam’s mouth.

Ronan laughed at that, the sound throaty and a little condescending. Then he kissed Adam again. Both pairs of blue eyes were closed happily before their mouths even met.

Birthdays, Adam decided, were something he could very easily learn to love.


End file.
